and “merciless tyrants and despots.”  The Foreign Secretary in his reply, while mildly deprecating these expressions, allowed his real sentiments to appear with a most undiplomatic insouciance There was an immediate scandal, and the Court flowed over with rage and vituperation.  “I think,” said the Baron, “the man has been for some time insane.”  Victoria, in an agitated letter, urged Lord John to assert his authority.  But Lord John perceived that on this matter the Foreign Secretary had the support of public opinion, and he judged it wiser to bide his time.

He had not long to wait.  The culmination of the long series of conflicts, threats, and exacerbations came before the year was out.  On December 2, Louis Napoleon’s coup d’etat took place in Paris; and on the following day Palmerston, without consulting anybody, expressed in a conversation with the French Ambassador his approval of Napoleon’s act.  Two days later, he was instructed by the Prime Minister, in accordance with a letter from the Queen, that it was the policy of the English Government to maintain an attitude of strict neutrality towards the affairs of France.  Nevertheless, in an official despatch to the British Ambassador in Paris, he repeated the approval of the coup d’etat which he had already given verbally to the French Ambassador in London.  This despatch was submitted neither to the Queen nor to the Prime Minister.  Lord John’s patience, as he himself said, “was drained to the last drop.”  He dismissed Lord Palmerston.

Victoria was in ecstasies; and Albert knew that the triumph was his even more than Lord John’s.  It was his wish that Lord Granville, a young man whom he believed to be pliant to his influence, should be Palmerston’s successor; and Lord Granville was appointed.  Henceforward, it seemed that the Prince would have his way in foreign affairs.  After years of struggle and mortification, success greeted him on every hand.  In his family, he was an adored master; in the country, the Great Exhibition had brought him respect and glory; and now in the secret seats of power he had gained a new supremacy.  He had wrestled with the terrible Lord Palmerston, the embodiment of all that was most hostile to him in the spirit of England, and his redoubtable opponent had been overthrown.  Was England herself at his feet?  It might be so; and yet... it is said that the sons of England have a certain tiresome quality:  they never know when they are beaten.  It was odd, but Palmerston was positively still jaunty.  Was it possible?  Could he believe, in his blind arrogance, that even his ignominious dismissal from office was something that could be brushed aside?

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